Blessing of the Ancients
by ericwinter
Summary: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light, and Shadow. Voldemort is dead, but old magics are stirring, and HArry Potter will need all the help he can get to fight the coming darkness. When the Dark Lord returns, he will find not a sacred, lonely boy raised in isolation, but a warrior, trained by the first coven in centuries as he travels the world. Disclaimer: I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

**Soooooo… This is a thing. To be honest, i don't quite know what I'm doing uploading this, but it kept bugging me and eventually I just had to surrender. Sure, i could just toss it in One, Two, Five and be done with it, but I don't feel like doing that. Besides, I've been stagnating recently and need something to keep my interest up. So, here we are with… this. To put it simply, this will be a 'Harry growing up fic' which basically explores what would have happened if that fantasy series about his adventures as a child were true. There will be a lot more to it than that, of course, but you'll have to read to find out more. So with that, I will leave you to it. Have fun!**

XXX

Regulus was not having a good day. He wasn't having a good week, month, or year, really. That tended to happen when you were supposed to be dead.

 _But I'm not, am I?_ That was one bright spot in the darkness. The problem was that it didn't even seem to matter. He couldn't go back to the Wizarding World, not without the Death Eaters who had escaped prison-and there would be a lot of them, he knew- descending on him like rabid dogs on a bone. Even worse, most of his own people didn't quite realize they _were_ his own, so there wouldn't be anyone to help, if they didn't just throw him in a cell and lose the key. So no, returning home wasn't an option. But the mission he had imposed on himself, his one source of purpose, had hit brick wall after brick wall, and Regulus was starting to wonder just what he hoped to accomplish by endlessly chasing after every half-spun lead he could find, which weren't many in the first place.

"Hey misser, why you sad?" Shocked by the tiny voice that intruded on his thoughts, Regulus's head shot up. A little boy, with messy dark hair that looked like it had been caught in a wind blower and bright green eyes was standing in front of the park bench Regulus sat on, staring up at him with the undeniable curiosity only a child could manage.

"I'm not sad, kid." Regulus said, trying to offer the kid a small smile. He couldn't be much older than two or three, but there was a childish intelligence in his eyes that didn't seem convinced by the pathetic attempt.

"You look sad." He said boldly, pointing a small finger at Regulus's face. "Li'e you about to cw'y." The outright bluntness of this statement, surprisingly accurate, managed to wring a choked chuckle out of Regulus.

"I suppose I might. Thank you for warning me." He said, reaching out a hand to ruffle the kid's already messy hair. He ducked away at the last second, a cry of indignation piercing Regulus's ears, but not before the grown man caught sight of something that stole the breath from his lungs. Before he could speak, however, a woman's voice called out, catching the kid's attention.

"Harry! What have I told you about talking to strangers?"The boy, looking as if he had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, froze, before turning slowly around. Regulus, eyes following, nearly laughed aloud when he saw what had stopped the kid. A young woman, barely the same age as him and with a giant mass of bushy red hair, was marching towards the two boys, a fiercely mother-like expression on her face. Her arms were filled with yet another child, Harry's age and just as bushy of hair but colored brown.

"But Miwi, he look like Pa'foot!" The woman, seeming taken aback by his sudden declaration, paused, looking at Regulus curiously. When her eyes found his, however, they went wide in surprise.

"It-it's you?" She breathed, and Regulus raised a questioning eyebrow even as his hand tensed, ready to flick his wand from the holster on his wrist. Anyone recognizing him was probably not good, especially if he didn't know them.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" The wizard kept his voice carefully level, but the woman must have heard something in it, for she took a deep, shuddering breath, before moving to set her burden down.

"'Mione, go play with Harry for a bit, yeah?" She told the little girl, who bit her lip and looked between the woman and Regulus. After a moment, however, the child seemed to notice the tension between the two adults and nodded, before grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him away. The dark-haired boy struggled for a moment, obviously not wanting to leave what looked like a very interesting conversation, but eventually the girl managed with liberal use of more extreme stubbornness and childish authority, and the woman watched them scamper off with a quiet laugh. Eventually, however, she had to turn away, meeting Regulus's cold grey eyes apprehensively.

"No." She said quietly, a loose hand playing with the hem of her blouse. "You don't know me. But I know you. Your name is Regulus Arcturus Black. And you should be dead."

XXX

"Your name is Regulus Arcturus Black. And you should be dead." The second those words came out of her mouth, Miriel Puck knew she shouldn't have said them. But she did, and the dark-haired man's actions were exactly as she expected. Moving like a ghost, he had stepped into her personal space, close enough that the long stick of wood which appeared in his hands would be hidden by their bodies to any casual onlookers, even as he pressed it to her chest, and his face shifted into a look of barely-controlled fury.

"Who are you?" He asked in a harsh whisper, Making Miriel wince. "How do you know my name?"

"Miriel Puck!" She managed to gasp out, fear nearly catching the words in her throat. "My name is Miriel Puck, and I'm not here to kill you." The desperate exclamation did little to calm Regulus. In fact, his eyes narrowed, and his grip on his wand tightened.

"What did you mean, 'I should be dead'?" He asked, and Miriel struggled to get control of her panic as his grey eyes, sharp and lethal in their intensity, bored into her.

"I saw you!" She said, scrambling to gather her scattered wits. She wasn't afraid of Regulus, per se. She knew, without quite knowing how, that he was a good man, one who wouldn't hurt an innocent. But his reactions, forged in war, and well-justified for her thoughtless words, could end up with one or both of them hurt, and she didn't want that. "I saw you, in the cave, with dead men dragging you down, down into the dark and the cold to join their ranks." For a long second, they stood there, man and woman looking deep into each other's eyes, and Miriel wondered if she was about to die. But then, just as she was about to close her eyes, hoping it would be quick and painless, Regulus stepped away, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

"How?" He asked, and his voice was softer now, less filled with threat. Miriel gulped, a small hope blossoming in her stomach.

"I dreamed it." She answered, her voice quavering. She knew how ridiculous it sounded, especially with the way Regulus's eyes sharpened once again, but she couldn't stop herself. "I have the Sight, Regulus, and last night I dreamed a man with eyes of steel and hair like sin would be forged from light in the depths of darkness. I dreamed that he would steal the Savior from his pain and misery, flanked by Fire and Shadow, to name him heir and raise him a warrior." As she spoke, her voice steadied, as did her gaze, and by the time she was done, the fear that had gripped her heart was utterly gone. Regulus, for his part, studied her, completely unmoving as his eyes watched hers.

"You speak the truth?" The man asked finally, after several long seconds of silence, and Miriel nodded slowly. She was surprised at his reticence. It had been a long time she told anyone of her gift, or curse depending on the day, and even less since she told what she had seen. The Sight had plagued her since she was a child, and few people liked to hear of their future. Most chose to believe she was making stuff up rather than believe it. "So you're a witch." Again, She nodded.

"Muggleborn, but yes. And I was homeschooled, or rather, I taught myself. DIdn't want to leave my friends to go to some stuffy boarding school in Scotland." The last was said with a quiet, sad smile. None of those friends had lasted very long, and while that old Professor helped her out a lot, Miriel always felt she was missing something as a witch. Regulus, saying nothing, gave a short, understanding nod. Before she could say anything else though, he had turned away, his eyes seeking out the two children who were still playing.

"Are they yours?" The man asked, and Miriel, who had followed his gaze, winced.

"I wish." She answered bitterly, shrugging when those ever sharp eyes turned to her questioningly. "Hermione is mine in a way. We're distant cousins, but I look after her now." The woman left out why, and Regulus, surprisingly, didn't ask.

"And Harry?" He prompted, when she didn't say any more. Miriel opened her mouth to answer, but stopped. There was something in his voice, a sense of urgency that set warnings flaring in her mind.

"Why are you so interested?" She asked instead, leaf-green eyes narrowed. Regulus froze, but his expression gave nothing away as he continued to watch the children play.

"I-" He started, before cutting himself off. After several seconds of silence, spoke again, voice turning soft and quiet. "How much do you keep up with the news from the wizarding world?"

"Not much." Miriel answered apprehensively, wondering at the sudden change in topic. "I heard there was a war, and an evil wizard of some kind. Then about six months ago there was a whole bunch of celebrations, even the Muggles noticed, but that's about it." The woman watched Regulus carefully as she spoke, noting the way he grimaced, and even more when the man crossed his arms.

"There was." He said slowly, as if testing each word on his tongue before saying it. "The Dark Lord Voldemort waged a reign of terror the likes of which haven't been seen since the last great war. He was lethal, unstoppable, and possessed an army of followers that would give their life and soul for him." Again, Miriel felt that penetrating stare, as if Regulus were looking into the core of her being and judging her worth. She could see the pain, too, and fear, reflected in those grey eyes that had seen too much for a man so young. "But then one night, he attacked a family. A man and woman, who by some merit of skill or luck had fought him and survived three times each, and their son. The parents were caught off guard, their protections betrayed by a believed friend, and he killed them easily. But the baby…" Regulus paused then, turning to look at the two children, laughing as they played. "When he tried to kill the boy, something happened. The spell rebounded, destroying the Dark Lord's body, and leaving the house in ruins." HIs eyes returned to Miriel's, this time burning with a fiery determination that stole her breath and left the woman gasping in shock. "The child was left marked with a lightning bolt scar, etched into his forehead as a permanent reminder."

Miriel, reeling as Regulus's story washed over her, glanced to where Harry and Hermione were, her mind racing. She had seen Harry's scar before, the thing was hard to miss after all. At first, she had simply assumed that it was a remnant from the car crash the boy's monstrous aunt claimed killed his parents, but there was always that lingering doubt, a sense of unease every time she looked at it, tickling the back of her mind. Now, all the pieces fell into place, and she gasped.

"He's the savior," She breathed, turning to Regulus with a frantic light in her eyes. "From my dream, he's the savior, and you're here to take him away and-" She started babbling, unable to control herself as joy filled her. She had watched for months as Harry suffered, left forgotten, alone, and bereft of love by his so-called family, and unable to do anything for him except provide a place to get away, a few spare meals when she got the chance, and a friend in Hermione. It wasn't enough though. The child tried to hide it from her, in the way toddlers do, but she knew the Dursley's beat him; He flinched any time she moved too fast, or raised her arm too high, Not to mention how skinny he was. She doubted they fed him more than once a day, and little enough at that.

"Stop." Regulus's voice was commanding, but not harsh, as he held out a hand and brought Miriel's ramblings to a halt. When the woman realized what she had been doing, her face was consumed in a fierce blush. "I'm not here to take anyone away. I just wanted to make sure the kid was alright." Regulus looked apologetic, but Miriel shook her head, looking at him aghast.

"Alright?" She asked, disbelieving. How could the boy ever be alright living in that household. Before she could start screaming at him, however, Miriel caught hold of her emotions, stopping herself. _He doesn't know._ She thought, looking into Regulus's grey eyes which were only mildly concerned. "No, Harry's not alright. In fact, he's about as far from alright as you can get." Regulus raised a surprised eyebrow at her words.

"What exactly do you mean?" He asked, and Miriel sighed, looking away.

"Harry lives with his aunt and uncle now." She said, trying to keep her bitterness out of her voice and failing miserably. They…" She stopped, glancing at her watch. It was about five in the afternoon, when she was supposed to be bringing Harry back. Miriel bit her lip. "Actually, why don't I just show you?"

XXX

Regulus knew something was wrong as he stood on the doorstep of Number Four Private Drive. The woman Miriel had said as much, of course, but it was Harry that convinced him. As soon as she called out to the children, stating that it was time to go home, the boy's eyes had dulled with a pain and fear Regulus knew well. Even now, Miriel glanced down at the child, biting her lip and practically shivering with tension. HArry looked like he was walking down Death Row, fear and desire warring on his face as he looked up at the woman.

"Miwi, I don' wanna go." He muttered in his childlike voice, and Regulus felt his heart shatter at the pain in his voice. What could possibly break a child so badly? The question was answered a moment later when the door sprung open, to reveal a tall, horsey woman who looked more like a stick than person.

"It's about time you- oh, who's this." Regulus found himself surprised as he stared at the woman. Everything about her, from the tone of her voice-hard, bitter, and vicious- to the way her eyes suddenly gleamed with dark interest when they settled upon Regulus, disgusted Regulus.

"Hello ma'am." Regulus said carefully, inclining his head slightly. "My name is Regulus. I'm a friend of Miriel." The woman, Petunia Miriel had said her name was, looked him up and down, a hungry interest burning in her gaze.

"I'm sure you are." She replied, with a poisonous smile, before turning back to the red-haired woman. "Thank you for watching him. I'll take it from here." THe words, courteous in theory, held none of the sincerity one might expect, and it was with a hard heart Regulus watched Petunia grab Harry roughly by the arm and drag him inside. The child didn't even protest, dully accepting the harsh treatment as due soon as the door slammed shut, Regulus turned and stormed away, hating himself with every step.

"Regulus." The wizard stopped when the soft voice called his name, whirling on Miriel with a desperate fury.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he demanded from grit teeth. His anger, already a ferocious blaze, only roared higher as Miriel looked at him with calm, thought there was a hint of something beneath that stopped him from cursing her right there.

"His aunt." She said, and there it was, the venom she put into that single word mollifying Regulus in an instant.

"Harry was afraid." He said coldly, grey eyes burning into Miriel's green with a desperate question.

"They beat him. And starve him. I'd be surprised if the kid got more than one meal a day, and they're likely small. But the worst is the cupboard." The words, spoke as matter-of-factly as possible when the speaker seemed to be struggling not to scream, sent ice creeping into Regulus's heart. Regulus had never been a person to rage overtly, with screams, shouts, and throwing fragile objects. His emotions were quiet things, but no less deeper or meaningful for it. But now, as he stared up to the house, appearing so plain that none would think such horrible things might happen inside it, perhaps throwing things might be a good idea. Namely curses at the monsters who lived within.

"Cupboard?" He asked, with his voice barely holding back the anger that burned coldly in his veins.

"He sleeps in it." Was Miriel's reply, filled with heat to match Regulus's cold. "And they throw him in there whenever they don't want to bother with him, which is most of the time." Regulus's eyes snapped to hers, and for a long second, he stared at the woman. Then, finally, he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Murdering the muggles, as pleasant as the idea might sound, wouldn't help. But whatever he did, this would not stand. "Come," He said, turning to the car where little Hermione was waiting. We can do nothing for him here." Miriel nodded, and together, they walked away.

XXX

"We can't leave him there." Miriel said, as she stepped into her living room. She had just put Hermione down to bed, and Regulus looked up from his seat on the couch at her entrance.

"I agree." He said, rising. "But there must be a plan if we are to do anything at all."

"And I assume you have one." Regulus only smirked at the comment, and Miriel felt her heart give a flutter. Not for the first time, she noticed that Regulus was an extremely handsome man. WIth his dark hair that seemed both boyish and refined, not to mention the sharp grey eyes that seemed to pierce her to her core, he was just her type. A little bad, a little good, and a whole lot of dangerous. Maybe she should stop staring at him.

"I _am_ a Slytherin." was his answer, and Miriel found herself raising an eyebrow. That was a whole lot of pride right there.

"So what is it?" She asked, and Regulus's smile turned sly.

"I have no right to Harry." he started, leaning against the back of the couch with crossed arms. "Even if I took him and ran, he doesn't know me, and would barely trust me."

"He knows me." Miriel pointed out, pleased when Regulus nodded.

"Yes, but it would still be kidnapping. well-deserved, but still illegal."

"So what do we do?" MIriel asked exasperatedly. Regulus, looking amused at her reaction, smiled.

"My brother is Harry's godfather. In fact, I'm not really sure why he didn't get Harry in the first place, but I can ask that when I've found him." That confused Miriel, and she frowned.

"Why don't you just owl him?" She asked, but regretted it a second later when Regulus's expression turned bitter. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No it's fine." the dark-haired man waved away her apology, grimacing. "It's just that Sirius thinks I died while fighting for the other side. He wouldn't exactly want to hear from his dead, traitor brother would he?" Miriel winced at the pain in Regulus's voice, and before she could think better of it, stepped forward to wrap the man in a tight hug.

"You are a good man, Regulus." She whispered into his shoulder, even as she marveled at the strength in his lithe form. Fter a short second where Regulus stiffened in surprise, she felt his arms go around her to return the hug, though they were hesitant.

"I'm not so sure about that." He said, and Miriel jerked back, keeping her arms around him, to glare up into his eyes.

"And why not?" She asked fiercely, hands bunching in the soft material of his shirt. "You sacrificed your life to get that locket, you can't stand to see Harry suffering-what's there not to like?" Regulus, taken aback by the sudden vehemence of her words, was speechless for several long moments. Finally, he answered.

"I still joined the Death Eaters., I couldn't even destroy the locket. And I sided with our family over him when they threw him out for not wanting to be a perfect little Pureblood and joining the Dark side." _Crack._ Regulus's head snapped to the side as Miriel's hand connected with his cheek. The redhead, surprised even at her own actions, stared at her hand. When he looke back up, however, her face hardened, and she pushed even closer, until their breaths were mingling in the air between them.

"That was a long time ago, Regulus Black, and you were barely a child then." The words, though Miriel didn't quite know how she knew what she was talking about, rang with anger and truth. "But the man I see standing before me is no Death Eater. He is a man who died to defy Voldemort, who found the light hiding inside himself even when things seemed darkest, and he is the man I very much want to kiss right now." As the last words left her mouth, Miriel closed her tried to move forwards, but was stopped when Regulus beat her there, pressing his lips against her in a fierce kiss that stole her breath. One of his long slender hands reached up to tangle itself in her bushy mane of hair, and Miriel reciprocated, losing herself in the feel of the man as her hands trailed up and down his didn't know why she was doing this, kissing a man she barely knew, but as she pressed herself against him, something clicked inside her. With all she had seen in this short day, and all the nights she had dreamed of the man of Light, she knew him. She knew the strength in his heart, the quiet steadiness and brilliant soul hiding under years of shame and fear that had led him to that cave. And she knew that she would love him. Not now, it was too soon for that, but she felt the connection between them in her very soul.

When they separated, the witch and wizard gasped for air. For a long time, it was all they could do to just stare at each other, chests heaving with deep breaths and pounding hearts.

"I… don't know why I did that." Regulus said slowly, and for a moment, Miriel thought he might pull away. But the arms encircling her tightened, not loosened, and she smiled softly as she leaned against his chest.

"Because you realized you were being an idiot." She said quietly, reveling in the feel as he hummed quietly.

"I was? I can't quite remember what we were talking about." Miriel drew back, looking at him with shock when she saw a spark of mischief in his eyes, however, she laughed and slapped a hand against him.

"Harry, you prat. How we were going to get him away from those horrible monsters."

"Mmm," He replied smirking. "Well, as I said, my brother won't take me showing up on his doorstep well. So we'll need someone who can convince him not to kill me. Luckily, I know just the man."

"Oh?" She asked, reveling in the thrill that ran through her as he smirked.

"Sirius's last living friend and the one man besides Dumbledore who knows I turned my back on Voldemort. His name… is Remus Lupin."

XXX

 **So, that's done, and I am now hating my life. I just know this is going to drive me insane in more ways than one. But, ce'st la vie and all that, so here we are. Anyways, please leave review, (And make a profile if you do, I would love to respond to each and every one of you, but when you use a guest account that becomes impossible) And I will see you all later. See ya!**


	2. Chapter 2

_It was dark. Dark and cold, with the breath burning in his lungs as he struggled for freedom. Wet, clammy hands clutched at him, scraping and pulling downwards into the depths, and a black terror blossomed in his heart. He would die here. He would die, and no one would know of the Dark Lord's weakness. The thought tore into him, a scathing shame, and he struggled harder, but it was no use. Then, just as he was about to give up, something changed. Light, burning and brilliant, consumed the darkness, and he heard a woman's voice whispering…_

" _You are_ mine."

XXX

Regulus woke with a start, gasping heavily. For several long seconds, it was all he could do to sit there, struggling to breathe and calm his racing heart. The dream was familiar to him, a comfortable terror which had haunted his dreams since that night in the cave. As the man finally brought his breathing down to something approaching normal, Regulus pulled himself off the bed, groping around in the darkness for the door.

He stumbled, lost and distracted, down the unfamiliar corridor to a door that looked like it might house a loo. Inside, he set the water running, hot and clean. Regulus splashed his face a couple times, reveling in the heat, before looking into the mirror. He was a mess, his dark hair that was usually so carefully styled thrown into a casual disarray, and his skin was even paler than usual.

"Regulus?" The voice, feminine and concerned, made Regulus jump and whirl, one hand grasping for a wand that wasn't there. A second later, he stopped, however, clutching his hand tightly against his leg as he recognized the red-haired woman.

"Miriel. I didn't mean to wake you." Even as he spoke, Regulus realized why he had been so lost before. Miriel, in a surprising moment of kindness, had offered him a guest room for the night. He must have woken her with his blind wanderings.

"It's fine." The woman said dismissively, waving a pale hand, before her eyes trailed down from his face. "Oh my god." She breathed, and for a moment he was confused. When Miriel stepped forward, however, her hand reaching up to touch his bare chest, he realized what the matter was. Regulus had slept shirtless for years, so it hadn't quite occurred to him that he was standing half-naked in a woman's bathroom. Just before her fingers touched, his hand snapped up to catch her wrist in an iron grip.

"Don't. Please." He said in an even harsher voice than he had expected. Surprisingly, there was no fear in Miriel's green eyes as they met his. Instead, he saw a depth of understanding that shocked him to his core. Slowly, he released her hand, exhaling sharply. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." MIriel smiled, dropping the appendage and leaning back against the doorjamb. Despite the nonchalance in her action, he could feel those striking eyes burning into him, roving over the myriad of scars that chronicled his childhood. There were more, hidden where they weren't so easily seen, but it was more than enough to get the message across.

"How did you get them?" MIriel's voice was soft, but still Regulus's head shot up to stare at her, his cold grey gaze burning with surprise. "If you don't mind my asking, I mean." For a long, long moment, Regulus stared at the woman, Unsure of what to say. He was… lost, lost and confused. Two days ago the Black heir had been utterly alone in the world, with no one and nothing he could trust. Now… now Miriel Puck had swept into his life with reckless abandon, turning it upside down in a matter of hours. There was something about the woman, a warmth and light that drew him in. He had never known someone to be so utterly kind. She had protected little Harry as much as possible, and Regulus felt her pain at not doing more. And when Miriel offered her guest room for him to stay the night, a veritable stranger with only her dreams to guide her, The man had thought he might be swallowed by the wave of gratitude that swept through him. Since his earliest memories, Regulus had never been shown such thoughtless consideration. Even the kiss, as much a shock as it had been a pleasure, was given with nothing more expected.

"My mother." Regulus began slowly, meeting Miriel's eyes carefully. "She, was a very broken woman. Not like usual, by grief or something similar, but fundamentally. And she was of the belief that the Cruciatus curse lacks a personal touch." That was all he said, but it was enough. MIriel nodded once, and Regulus, suddenly overcome by memories, turned back to the sink and closed his eyes. He didn't know how long he stood there, rough hands gripping the cool porcelain so tight it felt about to break, before a feather-light touch on his shoulder made him jerk in surprise.

"What's this?" Miriel asked curiously, and Regulus shivered as her silken skin brushed against his. The spot she was tapping wasn't a scar; he knew each of those intimately. But it was marked unnaturally, with a tattoo this time. Unlike the Dark Mark that stood out against his pale forearm-and how thankful was he that she hadn't mentioned it- this mark was pure white, taking the shape of a six-pointed star with an eye in the center.

"I-I don't actually know." Regulus answered hesitantly, struggling against the urge to push the woman away. "It appeared after the cave." Miriel, unsurprisingly, frowned and pulled her hand away.

"So six months ago, about?" She asked, and there was something in her voice that made Regulus's eyes narrow.

"Yeah, about." He answered carefully, turning to face the woman. "Why does it matter?" Miriel didn't answer with words. She turned, shrugging the thin strap of her nightgown off to reveal the back of a single pale shoulder. There, just under her shoulder-blade, like the joint of an unseen wing, was the exact same symbol, only in a pale green. Regulus's fingers were light as he touched it hesitantly.

"What does this mean?" he asked quietly, staring at the mark that was nearly identical to his own. Magical markings didn't just _happen_. It had to have some purpose.

"I don't know…" Miriel sighed, leaning into his touch. Regulus smiled at the reaction. Before he could say anything, however, the woman stiffened under his hand. He pulled back instantly, grimacing.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" He trailed off, not quite sure what to say. REgulus had never been one for dating, or any kind of intimacy really. Even those few girls he looked at in school were little more than idle fantasies before the Dark Lord drew him in and Regulus forgot all about romance. So he was surprised when Miriel shook her head after turning around, a small smile on her lips.

"It's okay Regulus, really." She said, pulling the strap back up. "Really, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I know you're a good man, and you would never help me, but i keep forgetting we're practically strangers. I don't even want to know what my mother would think." Regulus nodded slowly, accepting that. Mirirel was an extraordinarily attractive woman, especially now with her hair mussed by sleep and dressed in a loose sleeping gown. He could easily imagine all sorts of indecent thoughts someone might have seeing the two of them together, let alone those lurking at the back of his own mind. It would be best not to push the already generous hospitality she had extended him, especially with Hermione just a few doors down and easily awoken.

"Of course. I'll just… go back to my room. Goodnight, Miriel." He nodded to the red-head, pointedly ignoring her mischievously glittering eyes and poorly-hidden smile, before returning back the way he came and collapsing back into bed. After a long moment of laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he brought one hand to his face, groaning quietly. "Merlin's beard, I need a cold shower."

XXX

The next day dawned bright and early, and Miriel hated it for that. After her little encounter with Regulus in the bathroom, she'd hardly gotten any sleep, her dreams filled with the dark-haired man, more mundanely than usual. Then she had to get up at god-only-knows O'clock to feed Hermione and change her diapers, and there was little enough chance of sleeping after that she just gave it up for lost and turned on the TV. Even now, at noon, she was wincing in the sunlight while examining the small house before her.

Remus Lupin was, apparently, a consummate bachelor, and even worse, he was a poor one. The shack was small, not quite falling apart but certainly run-down, and more than likely had definite issues with , there was a mildly homey feeling it that made Miriel think she might not mind any of that too much. Either way, they weren't here for the house, but its owner.

"Are you sure he's there?" Miriel asked quietly, eyeing the empty driveway. Beside her, Regulus nodded, his own gaze directed more towards the neighbors houses, none of them in much better condition.

It's a full moon tomorrow, so he'll probably be in sorting out his arrangements, if not just too weak to move much. And you know wizards don't use cars often. The driveway won't tell you anything." There was a hint of humor to his voice as he answered, and when Miriel turned to frown at him, he was indeed wearing a small smirk. Miriel glared, before huffing.

"Well excuse me for being used to sensible modes of transportation. Whoever came up with brooms and fireplaces to travel was a veritable idiot." The smirk widened, but Regulus said nothing, merely glancing from side to side one last time before nodding.

"Alright, let's go." Miriel rolled her eyes at his antics, but stepped off the curb with him to cross the street. She knew Regulus had been in a war, a very bad one in fact, but they were in the middle of a small muggle town not far from Little Whinging, and several months removed besides. Anyone stupid enough to attack this Lupin in broad daylight for his part hardly would have escaped prison to be able.

There were several long moments of awkward silence after Regulus rung the doorbell, both him and Miriel shifting where they stood, until finally a faint voice called "Coming!" Several more passed, punctuated by rapidly loudening footsteps until a latch could be heard opening, and finally the door swung open. Regulus stiffened beside her, opening his mouth to speak, but before a word could escape Miriel heard another voice, filled with awe and disbelief.

"Regulus? Is that you?" Remus was, surprisingly, not at all what Miriel had expected when Regulus described him. Tall, with dark brown hair and darker eyes, yes, but rather than a relaxed, lanky man with a solidly bookish aura and glasses, she was met with a man beset by exhaustion, stopped ever so slightly and possessing dark bags under his eyes. There was a sort of tension around Remus too, the coiled readiness of a predator about to spring. This was no man they were staring at, but a wolf wearing his skin, weakened by disease but still dangerous.

"It's me, Remus. I'm alive." Miriel watched with fascination as the brown-haired man blinked in surprise, before, suddenly a great deal of the tension in his body drained away, and a tired smile stretched across his face. Suddenly, Remus appeared far warmer, his eyes brightening with a kind happiness.

"So you are. Come in, please." And just like that, he ushered the two of them inside, Miriel blinking all the while. She hadn't quite expected it to be that easy, from the way Regulus had talked about it. Surprise and suspicion warred within her as she stepped into the house, glancing around. It was, as she saw outside, rather small, with a short hallway housing two door, likely the bedroom and bathroom, down one side of the house, and then a wide open sitting room separated from the kitchen/dining area by a short wall and counter. Even the furniture matched her expectations exactly, a run down couch and armchair around the old stained coffee table which sat before a stone fireplace, and in the dining room sat a dark oak table and four rickety chairs around it. Simple functional, but oddly cozy. When she turned around to hand her coat to her host, she was brought up short by a long piece of wood pointing at her nose.

"Right." Remus said seriously, any semblance of the friendliness he had worn just moments before gone. "Now, you two are going to tell me who you really are, or things will get unpleasant."Miriel blinked in surprise, not sure if she wanted to be happy or worried. For one, at least the man wasn't so foolish as to accept them so easily, but for another she currently had a potentially lethal weapon pointed right at her. Miriel's own wand was hardly on her person, living as a muggle as she had been, and Regulus was behind her, unable to get a clear shot should something go wrong.

"Remus," Regulus started, and Miriel could just imagine him holding up his hand in a placating manner, but the sudden spark of magic at the tip of the werewolf's wand shut him up.

"Don't Remus me." the named man said, his face twisting into a snarl. "Regulus was a friend. Not close, perhaps, but a friend nonetheless, and he was murdered by the Dark Lord. How dare you defile his memory like this?" There was a shifting behind Miriel, and then Regulus sighed.

"March thirteenth, nineteen seventy nine. That's the night I showed up at your doorstep half-dead from blood loss and with two Death Eater corpses on my back." Remus's wand wavered. For a long moment, Miriel was afraid that Regulus's admission wouldn't be enough, even as she struggled to comprehend what he had said herself. She knew that Regulus would have killed, but that was different from hearing him actually admit it. Then the piece of wood dropped, and Miriel was left with a man slumping until he seemed almost to fold entirely in on himself.

"Godric damn it. I'm too tired for this shit." Remus muttered, before looking up, past Miriel's shoulder with an inscrutable expression. '"Who's the bird, Regulus? Don't tell me it's Lily's long lost sister or something. I might still hex you." There was silence for a moment as Miriel heard a small choked sound from behind her, but she ignored it. Instead, the red-haired woman chose to answer herself, not a small hint of her annoyance at being talked over slipping into her voice.

"My _name_ is Miriel, thank you. And if Lily is who I think then no, we're not related." Remus looked at her, blinking in surprise, before finally just shaking his head and sighing.

"Whatever. Come on, let's actually sit down before talking, if this is going to be serious. I'll put on some tea." Miriel, unable to find an excuse not to, complied, following Regulus as they seated themselves on the couch in the sitting room. There was silence for several minutes as Remus prepared the tea, using a battered old tea-set that looked like it had come from the dark ages, before finally he returned and set the tray on the coffee table, settling the free armchair and peering at the two of them over his own cup.

"So." He said finally, breaking the silence. "What brings a dead man and his precocious armcandy to my humble abode?" MIriel and Regulus glanced at each other, apprehension evident in their features. Miriel, personally, was a touch offended. Armcandy, really? That was somewhat rude, though she was having difficulty blaming him. The man _had_ pretty much been ambushed on a day that was already trying. Before she could say anything, however, Regulus spoke up, meeting Remus's stare seriously.

"Harry's being abused, Remus." _That_ got a reaction, as Remus's eyes bulged, and he swallowed the tea in his mouth hastily, coughing all the while. Regulus held no pity however, continuing without pause. "Whoever decided he should go to his aunt and uncle instead of his _godfather,_ needs to be hexed to kingdom come. They're keeping him in a broom closet, _starving_ him, Remus. Even I'm surprised, and I remember Severus telling me in school how bad Lily's sister was." Disgust curled the dark-haired man's lip, and Miriel found herself matching it. Just thinking of the horrible things the Dursley had been doing, and to their own flesh and blood? If there was a Hell, then they had spots waiting with their names engraved in stone.

"How do you know this?" Remus asked finally, once he was no longer coughing. There was something dark in his eyes now, lurking just beyond sight as his gaze burned into Regulus. The other man grimaced, shaking his head.

'I just found him yesterday, myself, but what little I saw there was a mess already. Miriel's been trying to help him for a while though, before she even realized who he was." In an instant, that dark gaze had shifted to her, and Miriel had to struggle not to quail beneath it. Remus may not have as piercing a stare as Regulus, but it was certainly close, and resembled a lurking beast farr too much for comfort.

"I live just a couple blocks away," Miriel said as way of explanation, swallowing a gulp of tea. "I've been watching over my cousin Hermione who's about his age, and a couple months ago they met at the park. The two took to each other like fish to water, and eventually I volunteered to babysit. When I learned just how those monsters were treating Harry though, I started doing my best to help, little though it is." With every word, Remus seemed to sink further and further into the cushions of his chair, grief and the weight of responsibility settling over his features like a cloud. If Miriel understood correctly, Remus was a good friend of Harry's parents and considered them family. To hear that their son was being so horribly mistreated must have hurt.

'I would have taken him." Remus said finally, after a long moment of silence. His expression was broken, lost and forlorn as he stared into the cup in his hands. "If Dumbledore had even asked, I would happily have said yes. But instead, he takes Harry and hands him off to his muggle relatives without even an explanation. But they didn't trust me."

"What about Sirius? He _was_ Harry's godfather." Regulus asked, a frown creasing his face. Surprisingly, however, Remus just snorted in disgust.

"The bloody traitor? Why in all the hells would Harry ever be entrusted to him? Regulus blinked at that, rocking back. Miriel shifted in surprise herself. Regulus had seemed so certain that his brother was their best option to rescue Harry, but could he have been wrong?

"What do you mean, traitor?" Regulus asked after yet another moment of silence. "Peter was the worm, not Sirius." This time, it was Remus's turn to blink, staring blan-faced at Regulus.

"What?" Was the eloquent reply, shock evident on his face. Again, Regulus frowned, explaining.

"Peter was the traitor that told Voldemort where to find the Potters. I never got the chance to warn you or Dumbledore-They were watching me too closely and I had my own mission to do-but I saw him speaking to the Dark Lord myself. Apparently Sirius got too clever and suggested pulling a bait and switch with their secret-keepers, but Pettigrew had already been terrified into turning coat." Yet again, silence reigned as Remus blinked rapidly, paling more with every second as Regulus's revelation began to set in. Then he whispered, horrified, "Oh _fuck._ " Regulus paused, his frown deepening.

"Remus," he started, and there was an edge to his voice that made Miriel shiver. "What's happened to my brother?" This time, when Remus met his eye, it was not suspicion or curiosity that lurked his gaze, but a stark apology.

"I'm sorry, Regulus." He said, utterly morose. "Sirius is in Azkaban."


End file.
